


A Song on the Wind

by bgoldfish



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgoldfish/pseuds/bgoldfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elros hears something familiar and goes looking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Song on the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> So short, but sweet I hope.

That melody again. Just a breath over the breeze. Elros knew his beloved wife could not hear it, but he could. He knew it far too well. Remembered the first few times it had touched his ears and lulled him to peaceful rest. He’d resisted allowing himself to adjust to the new life, far longer than Elrond. But finally, one simple word had doomed him before he’d even realized it.

_‘Ada’._

It had felt a betrayal afterward, but he couldn’t take it back. He still remembered Maglor’s expression at that word, along with Elrond’s. Though his twin had recognized more along what it meant. That he’d finally accepted there was honest love and a bond between him and their captors.

The twin who’d chosen to leave his brother, chosen to join Men and their Fate. Their Gift. Chosen to die, rather than live for centuries before fading through exhaustion and weary of spirit. That twin quietly dismissed himself from the gathering to slip outside the halls of his hard won home. Dismissed himself, so that he could climb up onto the roof and listen. Eyes closed. Face turned up. Dark hair moved around him in the wind.

Wind brought him that song again. No words, but he only needed the tune to sing along to himself, voice barely audible enough for his own ears.

Every so often he’d hear it, never long enough for the source to be found. He’d stopped looking. If Maglor didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. Maedhros was already long gone, as he deserved. But Maglor…the only word he had on him was the faint refrain he listened to even now.

Until it ended, leaving him alone, but at ease. Perhaps he was growing dependent of the memory, but if it helped in his work, in his responsibility as king, in _life_ , he’d take it. And take it gladly.


End file.
